


Mighty Real

by TheShinySword



Series: Not a Gal, Not a Pal (Transdori Week 2020) [6]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Aya Maruyama: Does. Desperately., CH 2: the reckoning of Chisato Shirasagi, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Hina Hikawa: Does not care what you think, Hurt/Comfort, Non-binary character, Trans Female Character, Transdori Week 2020, ch 1: AyaHina SayoTsugu fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinySword/pseuds/TheShinySword
Summary: On the Night of a Thousand Chisato Shirasagis, one Chisato learns just how little she truly understands herself. But don't worry Chisato, that's what found family is for.
Relationships: Aoba Moca/Shirasagi Chisato, Hazawa Tsugumi/Hikawa Sayo, Hikawa Hina/Maruyama Aya, Minato Yukina/Mitake Ran, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Udagawa Tomoe/Uehara Himari
Series: Not a Gal, Not a Pal (Transdori Week 2020) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933525
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70
Collections: Transdori Week 2020





	1. You Make Me Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Transdori Week day 6! I made my own theme: Egg thoughts. Hee hoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Transdori Week day 6! I made my own theme: Egg thoughts. Hee hoo.

Deep deep deep in the depths depths depths of space, past all stars you can see from a rooftop there was a little planet about the size of a fist. Covering that little planet were a thousand different Hinas, all with teal hair and green-gold eyes and a thousand different identities and every day one got shot down to earth to inhabit a human shell from the time it woke up to the time it fell asleep.

Sometimes Hina explained things like that.

Other times it was more: Picture a rack of clothes in front of you but instead of jackets and coats and dresses on hangers there are Hinas: He Hinas, She Hinas, They Hinas, a few It Hinas, a Xe Hina just for fun, some Hinas you can’t even refer to, some Hinas you don’t want to. Hinas for Hina to pick through and put on for a day or two before putting back for good, Hinas that Hina decides to keep and cherish and learn everything about that Hina that Hina can. Hinas just for Hina.

And sometimes, late at night and mostly saved as answers for sleepy questions asked by a lovingly bewildered Aya, a forehead kiss and a soft whisper of “I’m Hina.”

But mostly when someone asked “what are you?” Hina just laughed.

What Hina would Hina be today?

The excitement started right under the eyelids a few seconds before waking up. Hina would lay there, feeling the air, the vibes, the miasma and figure out what Hina was gonna be today.

Breathe in. Shake the air around. Exhale.

And there he was. Simple as could be.

Hina bounced out of bed, relishing in how his feet hit the floor and the sensation of wiggling his toes against the floorboards. It was so odd that people had bodies, Hina thought as he flitted to his closet to look through the collection of clothes he’d gathered over time, that they could exist in a real sense and a fake sense at once. He poured through the shirts, humming with every passing article until his fingers landed on the exact right one.

Salmon colored shirt today. The vibes just felt right.

That’s what gender was, he decided, a particular alignment of vibes.

Or maybe not. Who cared!

* * *

What Aya had for breakfast in the Hikawa twins’ apartment depended completely on who slept where the previous night. On good days Sayo was around to offer Aya some cereal or some yogurt, on bad days Hina was already in the kitchen cooking up chicken parmigiana as a light morning snack. And on the best days…

“Can I get you some eggs, Aya?” Tsugumi turned from the stove top with Sayo’s monogrammed apron tied around her waist and a frying pan in her hand, it’s eggs freshly evacuated onto Sayo’s plate.

“I couldn’t!” Politeness forced Aya to say as she joined Sayo around the kitchen table set at the border between the living room and the kitchen in their open plan apartment. They all knew very well that she could and would but they danced the manners dance regardless.

“I’m already cooking, it’s fine!” Tsugumi insisted brightly, cracking two eggs into the sizzling pan without waiting for an answer. Sayo looked up from her coffee to Tsugumi as soon as her girlfriend turned away. Her expression was so soft and tender as if Sayo’s heart peeked through her eyes, that Aya was sure she shouldn’t look… but she did anyway, while wondering if Hina ever looked at her like that when she was turned away.

“If it’s not a bother.”

“It’s totally not!” That sparkling laughter hit Aya’s ears like seltzer water down her throat. “Why would Tsugu ask if she didn’t wanna?”

Suddenly, lanky but strong arms wrapped around Aya from behind, dripping over her in playful possession. Aya was assaulted with a series of sloppy wet kisses, on her cheek, her shoulder, her neck, her hair as she squirmed and tried to push Hina away half because it was what Hina expected and half because Hina was going to mess up Aya’s hair like that!

“Hina.” Sayo warned. “Give the girl a break.”

“Sure Sis~.” Hina relented with one last kiss—so wet it was punctuated with a lick—and fell into the chair next to Aya.

The other three pairs of eyes in the kitchen turned to look Hina over. What Hina were they going to get today?

Sayo and Tsugumi’s eyes flicked up and down Hina’s form but they kept their guesses to themselves, waiting for the official declaration from Aya. Becoming the official Hina whisperer was a big responsibility, one Sayo and Tsugumi had both held and bonded over and subsequently happily passed down to Aya.

“He and Him today?” Aya asked though she already knew it was the answer.

Hina’s eyes sparked up and he leaned over to kiss Aya hard on the mouth—maybe a bit too hard for the breakfast table but that was what motivated Aya so strongly to understand years ago. His grin infected everyone else in the kitchen. Even as Tsugumi and Sayo returned to their morning tasks they smiled a bit brighter.

Aya couldn’t say exactly how she knew. It wasn’t as simple as looking at Hina’s clothes, though he looked handsome with his billowing pink shirt tucked loosely into his jeans, and his long hair thrown back in a quick braid like a prince from some fairy tale (except Hina so better). It was something more “boppin’” as Hina would say. Something in the air around them.

It took a while for Aya to get to the point she could tell. On sight There was a lot of trial and error and notes scratched out on napkins and notebooks to no avail. The only way Aya could know was to just feel it out and there was no explanation for that. But it didn’t bother Aya any more. It wasn’t really something Aya had to understand to love Hina with all her heart. If anything, Aya loved the mystery and knowing she’d never have time to uncover it all.

“Here you are!” Tsugumi chirped and set down a plate in front of Aya, turning back to the stove before Aya even had time to thank her for the gooey deliciousness. “Over easy Hina?”

“Hmm,” Hina crossed his legs onto the seat and buried his chin in his chest in thought. “What do you think over hard would be like?”

Tsugumi tapped the spatula against the side of the frying pan. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone ask for that…”

“But if there’s an easy and a medium there’s gotta be a hard!”

“Maybe it’s like a hard boiled egg… but without the boil?” Aya offered.

“Heh!” Hina laughed, “That sounds so silly Aya! I want that!”

Tsugumi’s smile shook as she tried to quickly figure out how exactly to manage Hina’s request. Aya silently apologized for once again inconveniencing her kinda sorta sister-in-law. Fortunately Tsugumi had her own sort of prince to save her.

“Hina.” Sayo’s eyes were so much like Hina’s but Aya had never seen Hina quite manage to replicate Sayo’s steely glare. “Do not take advantage of Tsugumi’s kindness.”

“But you wanna know too don’t you~,” Hina leaned with a catlike smile over the table.

Sayo pulled away as he leaned closer. “Any curiosity I _may_ have is outweighed by my graciousness towards _my_ girlfriend cooking _you_ breakfast.”

“Fair,” Hina conceded before pivoting his attention wholeheartedly to Aya. “Aya! Make me some eggs over hard!”

“What?” Aya panicked. Okay, okay, she needed butter and eggs and uh, a pan but it probably wasn’t too hard—

“Here you go!” Tsugumi delivered a third plate of eggs before Aya’s panic could fully set in. True to Hina’s request and Aya’s guess, the yolk was hard with the consistency of a boiled egg with the tell-tale squish of a fried one.

“Tsugu! You’re incredible! Look at these zappin’ eggs!” The stars danced in Hina’s eyes. He devoured them quickly.

“Were they everything you wanted?” Sayo asked with some amusement.

“Hmm… yup! Kind of gross but still Boppin’!”

Tsugumi glanced over her shoulder. “I can make you more?”

“Please don’t spoil my sibling,” Sayo sighed. “He’ll have you cooking eggs all day.”

Hina’s attention was already fixed back on Aya, watching her finish up her eggs like Aya was his favorite tv program. Which she kind of was, Hina’s computer was full of carefully—though confusingly—labeled folders filled with all of Aya’s TV spots and appearances. He leaned on his hand with a smushed smile. “Eggs are amazing! There are so many ways to cook them! I can’t wait to find more.”

“Find MORE?” Egg slid off Aya’s fork as she missed her mouth on the delivery.

“Next time I wanna try Aya’s eggs~”

“Hina…” Aya’s heart tightened as she made the classic mistake of feeling an emotion before Hina finished his sentence.

“They’d probably still have shells in them! You’d invent four new types of egg without trying!”

“Hina!” That was how Hina showed his love. Probably.

“Hey Sis,” Hina’s attention pivoted quickly onto a new topic, following connecting threads that only he could see. “What’re you and Tsugu doing tonight~?”

Sayo eyed Hina suspiciously, “I have no plans. Tsugumi and her friends will be enjoying their monthly game night.”

“We drink a lot and Moca reverse-cheats at monopoly,” Tsugumi sort of explained.

“Reverse-cheats?” Aya asked.

“They rob the bank and start handing out money and property to everyone and call it redistribution. They say it’s the only way to truly win the game,” she giggled. “It’s just an excuse for us to hang out without girlfriends. Ran makes sure Himari and Tomoe keep a person between them at all times.”

Hina’s ear twitched, something in Tsugumi’s spiel interested him and Aya really hoped it wasn’t robbing a bank. “So you’re free then sis? You gotta join us tonight!”

“Join you?” Sayo’s head tilted, her guard beginning to lower.

“Oh! Aya!” Hina took Sayo’s light interest as an RSVP and excitedly turned to Aya. “We should invite Chisato! She’s definitely free if Moca’s with Tsugu!”

“We should?” Aya’s brain slowly whirled around the idea. By the time it clicked on exactly how Very Bad an idea it was, she realized with horror that Hina phone was in his hand. “Wait! This isn’t the place for Chisato—!”

But, of course, it was too late. Hina already asked and Chisato was sure to accept. Which meant that night Aya was going to accompany Chisato Shirasagi to the Haute House of Hamburgers and Highballs’ drag night. And the theme?

Night of a Thousand Chisato Shirasagis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ain't I a stinker? 
> 
> I'll update everything when I post part two hopefully either either barely on time or comfortably late. 
> 
> Special thanks to [Silversilky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silversilky/pseuds/silversilky) for reading this through for me, and to who didn't have the time but woulda if she coulda [Demonladys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonladys/pseuds/demonladys) plus they both opened my third eye to NB Hina.


	2. Mighty Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it almost took a week to finish but let's wrap up Transdori Week right now. It's been a wild ride and I hope we had fun. 
> 
> CW: A little misgendering, a lot of internalized misogyny and a little internalized transphobia.

Her mother rarely looked at Chisato directly when she was “putting on her face”. She’d sit at her towering ivory vanity, taller than Chisato could ever imagine at six years old, and glance to the side from time to time to check if Chisato was listening as she talked but she’d never turn around. It wasn’t a conversation. It was a sermon.

Chisato watched her mother do her makeup so many times from her perch on the edge of her parents’ bed with her back as poised and straight as her father insisted it be at all times that all the memories blended into one. She couldn’t remember if she’d wanted to watch or her mother forced her—Chisato was so young her desires were entirely her mother’s anyway.

It should be a good memory, a moment of bonding between mother and daughter. She wanted it to be a good memory.

Her mother narrated each step as she went. It probably took twice as long that way but she wanted to ensure her daughter knew how to turn herself into a woman stroke by stroke, powder by powder. She’d pause between each product and hold it up like the ladies on tv, as if trying to convince Chisato of it’s necessity, before continuing her work. Women’s work.

Chisato took notes of everything. She committed each word to memory, even the ones that weren’t about makeup.

Her mother looked up at the tv just before she started on her eyes. There was a young actress on a daytime tv set, talking about some role—a fluff piece, Chisato would come to know the special inanity of those pieces well in a few years. She considered the girl on the screen, then she considered her daughter and then she spoke.

It only happened once, but the mix up of memory made it feel like every time. A single moment spread like tar over her memory.

“Chisato, you’re just like that actress aren’t you?” Her mother laughed, then paused. A frown flashed on her face just long enough for Chisato to see it before she recaptured her smile. “Except you like boys.”

Chisato didn’t particularly like anyone at her age but her mother was right. Mothers were always right. Little girls liked little boys. She didn’t know the word for what the woman on the screen was rumored to be. She never heard the scandalous whispers in greenrooms or the seen the grotesque headlines sensationalizing what was nobody’s business. She just knew her mother hated that woman. Or envied her. They were the same emotion.

Many years later Chisato would play that actress’ daughter on a short lived drama. By that time she did have a word for what she was, though she’d never found the bravery to say it out loud. She’d already killed off her first crush in her heart and her second. Even though they were separated by a generation Chisato hoped—

The show was canceled when the actress retired suddenly to get married. Was she lying to herself or it was just a rumor after all? Chisato wasn’t sure which was more disappointing.

But she wasn’t like that woman and she wasn’t like her mother. Chisato knew the word lesbian wasn’t a dirty word. It was hers. And yet she still did her makeup every morning.

Even on the days she went into the studio just to sit in a chair for another two hours as a makeup artist poked at and perfected her face, Chisato did at least _something_ before leaving the house. On days like today, when she was headed into the agency for contract meetings and long negotiations, she spent a long time in front of the mirror.

Some girl power adage about war paint crossed her mind, but the idea annoyed her on a fundamental level. War paint would be shocking, surprising. This was expected. The bare minimum of acceptability.

But at least Moca had fun watching.

It was impossible to count how many times Chisato’s eyes drifted to the corner of her mirror where Moca’s reflection watched her from the bed. Moca was barely awake and rolled up in the comforter like a burrito but they still watched with excited sleepy eyes.

Moca’s interest was far different from Chisato’s all those years ago. Moca had no interest in wearing makeup—the occasional lip gloss and stage makeup for Afterglow was the extent of their skill—but, as Moca would say, they liked any excuse to stare at Chisato.

Chisato didn’t understand, but she couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy doing her makeup a little more on the mornings they woke up in the same bed.

Her phone buzzed on the vanity. Chisato looked down and quickly took in the message from Hina. “Moca? You’re busy tonight, correct?”

“Yuuup,” Moca squirmed in their burrito. “Afterglow game night. We’re gonna buzz off all of Tomoe’s hair~!”

Chisato paused with her powder brush against her cheek, trying to imagine the series of events that could lead to that. “Why?”

“Heh heh, Masuki bet he wouldn’t do it and Tomoe said he would so Moca’s gonna hold him accountable~.” Moca wiggled to the edge of the bed with an incredibly self-satisfied grin. “Maybe ‘Ol Moca’ll do it too, just a little buzz buzz ya know?”

 _Your hair is so pretty Chisato. Everyone loves your beautiful hair. Most girls would kill for hair like that._ Clink. Chisato’s brush fell from her fingers. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I dunno.” Moca stretched their comforter burrito open with a yawn as wide as the extension of their arms. “Something different sounds fun.”

Chisato picked her brush back up, dusting a layer of pink powder onto her cheeks that was so light she couldn’t tell if it was even worth the effort.

Moca defined woman as “not Moca”. Did that mean they defined woman as “Chisato”?

She swiped at her eyes with mascara, relying on muscle memory to guide her.

Did the mystery of womanhood lie between Moca and Chisato? She looked at her face in the mirror, transformed so beyond the face she woke up with in the morning. Was this face more or less woman than that face? More or less “Chisato”? Was the answer in the paint?

Chisato opened her eyes. Moca was missing from their corner of the mirror. But before Chisato could turn to find them, Moca found her. They collapsed around her neck with the comforter thrown over their shoulders, dragging Chisato into their cozy little world as they playfully pecked her neck.

“Hey you.” Moca whispered. “Tell me what’s in your head.”

Chisato turned her head, careful not to let her cheek rub against Moca’s neck lest the makeup she hadn’t yet set be ruined. They looked so genuine, so loving, waiting there on her shoulder. It was hard to believe a moment ago she’d be thinking perhaps makeup was all that separated them. Up close it was so clear there was such a wider gap between them. There was one perfect Moca and there were so many Chisatos, each more flawed than the last. If she could throw away womanhood, would Chisato be that honest? Was that why Moca did it?

“Just talk about it” was easy advice when the topic wasn’t fundamental to the person you loved’s identity.

So instead she buried the truth in smaller truths. “Contract negotiations. Hopefully ending today. Hina invited me out afterwards, I think I’ll go. Celebrate, maybe.”

Moca accepted what Chisato would give her. “Have fun~ Don’t do anything Moca would do~” They reached around for a kiss and received Chisato’s hand instead.

“Absolutely not. I didn’t do all this work just for you to mess it up.”

“Come on~,” Moca whined, falling back on the bed in a dramatic spin that would envy any of Chisato’s many death scenes. “What’s the point of makeup if you’re not going to smear it all over Moca?”

With a bittersweet smile, Chisato wondered the same.

* * *

She didn’t sign the contract. For the fourth time in as many weeks Chisato found a reason not to sign her life away. This time it was an addition to the morality clause prohibiting her from expressing support for LGBT rights or individuals. It wasn’t even a company wide policy. The agency was just so determined to keep her image squeaky clean—Chisato hated that she even thought of it like that. She wasn’t dirty, her friends weren’t dirty, Moca wasn’t dirty.

Another week of negotiations to look forward to.

She changed in the workplace bathroom, not her clothes but her hair. Chisato tied her long blonde hair up and around before tucking it under a hairnet the same texture as her tights and covering it with a red wig she’d borrowed from a friend in wardrobe. The sunglasses and mask were fine enough for commuting but for a night out with two other members of her group Chisato required a disguise with a bit more effort. The red hair wasn’t exactly her style but Moca was right, something different was fun.

Chisato posed for a quick selfie under the fluorescent lights—it wasn’t a particularly skillful picture but Moca would be excited to see it—and then left to meet up with Hina and Aya at the address Hina sent.

Judging from the twelve texts of varying legibility Moca sent, they liked it very much.

It wasn’t very hard to reach The Hot House of Hamburgers and Highballs—odd name for a bar but Chisato supposed she was always behind on trends—a quick cab ride and suddenly she was at the curb scanning for her friends.

That was when she noticed the décor. A rainbow flag in one window. A blue, pink and white pastel flag in the other. Photos of women with mountains of hair and earrings the size of their earlobes pasted along the door like an insert in a playbill.

Chisato looked around the outside, eyeing the patronage of the bar. Gaggles of fashionable men entered together. Other men drunkenly stumbling out of the bar too enraptured with each other to notice her. A group of giggling women surrounded a woman with a chipped plastic crown and a sash reading “Bride to Be”. An exhausted man lugging a massive suitcase through the door who bore a strong resemblance to the brassy woman in the topmost photo.

 _Haute_ House. Not _Hot_ House. Hina had invited her to a gay bar.

She sighed and reached into her purse to pull out her phone and let Hina know she couldn’t make it. At least she arrived first so she wouldn’t have to make her excuses in person.

“Chisato,” Sayo called her name from down the block, walking briskly to meet her. As she drew closer Chisato could see the sweat growing on her brow. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Chisato wondered how many times she’d walked around the block while waiting. The excuse she was concocting puffed away in a cloud of empathy. She began to formulate one for when she was inevitably discovered galavanting in a gay bar. “Sayo,” Chisato smiled warmly. “Always lovely to see you.”

Sayo smiled in that soft and sad way of hers like she was always unsure if her good fortune had reached its limits. “I suppose Hina didn’t tell you much about the location either?”

“She did not.”

“He today,” Sayo corrected simply.

“Thank you.” Typically Chisato asked. The guessing game Aya liked to play was cute but it was much more practical to just ask what Hina was using that day.

“Chisato!” As if summoned by his name, Hina appeared from the ether and tackled Chisato, squeezing her with a tight hug as if they hadn’t seen each other at practice the day before.

“Don’t shout my name so loudly Hina,” Chisato chided.

Hina grinned as he pulled away, thrusting his girlfriend into his place. “You don’t have to worry about that tonight!”

Before she could ask for clarification, Aya was in her arms. She hugged much more gingerly. “Hi Chisato,” Aya said with a muffled giggle. She smelled sweet, definitely her perfume but it felt so appropriate for Aya. “Did everything go okay with your contract?”

“I didn’t end up—”

“No work talk right now!” Hina grabbed his sister and his friend and dragged them towards the door. “Tonight we’re here to drink and have fun!”

Easier said than done. Chisato was still learning how to do the latter but at least she had a fellow pupil in Sayo with her tonight.

The interior of the bar was, in a word, extra. Extra everything, extra glitter, extra purple, extra leather (pleather actually, Chisato realized as they sat down in a round booth with a high table), extra wide and extra dark. The centerpiece of the room was a runway that almost bisected it, lined with sparkling bulbs and a purple velvet curtain around the back.

Chisato was comforted by the other patrons of the bar around them. They weren’t too conspicuous after all, there were plenty of groups straight appearing women inside too. She hated to assume but the world was built out of assumptions whether they liked it or not.

Though with Hina Hikawa in their group they could never be inconspicuous. Hina looked different enough in his day to day life that he wasn’t instantly recognizable as a celebrity, though he drew stares from fans and strangers alike as he ordered two of the largest burgers on the menu and ate them with inhuman speed. Chisato, Aya and Sayo enjoyed much smaller portions though they all enjoyed very large drinks. Whiskey Highballs weren’t Chisato’s preferred way to drink whiskey but the seltzer and whiskey combined into a suitable enough mixture.

Her heart eased as the night wore on with pleasant chatter and alcohol. Her friends were wonderful weren’t they? The stuffy wig on her head reminded her why she didn’t do this all the time but more often at least, surely she could do it more often. Even though the person squeezed in beside her was Sayo instead of the person she wanted, it was still so warm and enjoyable to be out. Maybe she could even risk trying it with Moca sometime. Some bar in the middle of nowhere, a booth made for two where they only take up space for one. Alcohol made it so easy to fantasize, to forget about the worries that had plagued her. Gender troubles didn’t stand a chance when liquor was involved.

The bar’s dim lights somehow dimmed further, the other tables all disappeared from Chisato’s sight. Even Sayo grew hard to see. Without thinking Chisato reached for her hand. Sayo slipped their fingers together with a familiar squeeze. It was comforting.

The stage lights brightened. The runway went from the thing one’s eyes naturally drifted to to the only thing anyone could see. The velvet curtains parted and the MC entered the stage. All the lingering chatter ended at their first footstep.

Chisato, in all her years of stages and screens, had never seen a person enchant an audience quite that quickly. They were the sort of person Chisato frustratingly lacked the words to describe. Her brain couldn’t determine if she was looking at a man or a woman and she hated herself a little for how hard she tried to guess.

The MC looked over the crowd with a look that promised they were all in good hands. Their cool brown skin shone like bronze under the spotlight as they strutted down the runway in time with some old disco song beating from the speaker. They wore only the fun parts of a tuxedo: shining black dress shoes that squeaked sharply as they pivoted at the end of the runway so the audience could witness their every angle, tight smooth pants that conformed to the curve of their legs so tight their shoes and pants seemed one, and a black vest. Only a black vest.

They were beautiful, undeniably dangerously beautiful. Like an ancient androgynous bronze statue came to life and decided MCing drag night was the calling they were awoken for. They reminded her a little of Hina, if Hina could control the charisma she wielded and predictably, perhaps selfishly, she was also reminded of Moca.

“Welcome,” They called out in a silk smooth voice with open arms once they reached the back of the stage, inviting all the audience to rest in their embrace. “I see some old friends, I see some new faces.” Chisato swore they were looking at her table. “All are welcome in my house.”

Loud cheers rose up from the crowd.

“We’ve got a special treat for you tonight, a little preview for our Pride Parade Extravaganza next week. The theme’s a little tribute to a queen special to our hearts, so give _our_ queens the love—and tips—they deserve as they serve up that iron smile realness tonight on The Night of a Thousand Chisato Shirasagis!”

Chisato never sobered up quite that fast. It was a fight to keep herself from screaming a messy protest and a greater fight to keep from kicking Hina Hikawa in his kneecaps.

Sayo whimpered beside her. Chisato pulled her nails out of poor Sayo’s hand. Sayo leaned in close, “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Chisato hissed, trying to glare through the dark at Hina.

Sayo slid her phone with an image pulled up on it in front of Chisato. It was a poster. “The Haute House of Hamburgers and Highballs Presents The Night of A Thousand Chisato Shirasagi s” was branded in grandiose letters across the top and over half a dozen artifacted JPEG images of Chisato: her first Pastel*Palettes promo photo, a still on the balcony from Romeo and Juliet, that steampunk photoshoot Hina and Maya had insisted on so long ago, and so many others.

She primed herself to be either insulted or flattered. Like a coin in the air, it could go either way.

“Miss Shirasagi is a triple threat—she can sing, she can act and if you count those little shimmies on the stage she can dance too.” Again it felt as though the MC was winking specifically to her. “And we’re going to respect her the only way we know how—down the runway!”

The music changed and the MC marched to the side and took their place at a tall and skinny podium like a bedazzled principal giving a lecture. Then the curtains parted and Chisato Shirasagi stepped on stage.

Well, Chisato Shirasagi if she were about a foot taller. But the resemblance was otherwise remarkable. She wore a pinstripe brown suit reminiscent of the one Chisato had worn for four years as a child pretending to be a lawyer on tv thought she didn’t quite remember the suit fitting so tight or the neck line dipping so low.

“Order, order in my court,” the MC leaned over their podium with a cheshire cat smile. “The defense may not rest, she has work to be done!”

As Attorney Chisato walked closer, Chisato could pick out the differences more easily. Her face was contoured so sharply it could slice bread but Chisato’s face was softer than that—her makeup strove to dull any natural fierceness in her features. Chisato didn’t walk with that much sway in her hips, or that much power in her stance, though she couldn’t fault the imitator for the fantasy she was serving to the audience.

The junior attorney at law paused at the apex of the runway and stomped her foot, flinging out her pointer finger to the audience before straightening her lapel and strutting to the back with one last objection directed at the MC.

“I think I might just have to disbar her for that one,” The MC winked and motioned to someone off stage. “All the good little children better be in bed right now because mother is out and she’s got laser vision.”

Chisato relaxed a little as the next drag queen took the stage. She wasn’t specifically Chisato, she was Chisato’s mother in the classic trash movie: My Mother the Robot. She wore her mother’s gingham dress and white apron but her hair and her face were meant to imitate Chisato. Perhaps the role as if Chisato had played it? She appreciated the creativity.

“That’s my favorite!” Hina shouted at the stage. Chisato flashed back to a rare PasuPare slumber party where Hina forced his friends to sit through the dregs of Chisato’s filmography.

“Well we can’t all have taste~,” The MC cooed back.

The drag queen began to twitch half-way down the runway as if her body was malfunctioning. She clawed at the puffed sleeves of her dress, scratched at her own face and right as she hit the front she ripped the dress away—ripped the prepared panels away—revealing the shining chrome bodysuit underneath.

Sayo hummed approvingly beside Chisato. Aya clapped noisily as Hina hollered. Her friends were officially invested and so was Chisato. She was not the stick in the mud some people thought of her as.

It was charmingly nostalgic to stroll through her many costumes and roles, to see her image interpreted by artists and performers over and over. The Queen of Hearts with a beating human heart on her scepter, the ruffles and layers of her many period dresses billowing as a cape, that silly negligee with a witch hat reimagined as an elegant black and purple dress so magnificent Chisato wondered if she could get one made for herself.

The curtains parted again. The MC gasped.

“What light through yonder window breaks?”

And there was Chisato as Juliet.

“Hold on, you better not be breaking windows in my house.”

Juliet blew a kiss to the MC as she began her strut in her burgundy dress with a walk incredibly close to how Chisato played Juliet—reserved but exhausted. The detailing on the dress was remarkable, down to the exact flowers on her crown and the jewels around her neck dripping onto her bust. Chisato was surprised that anyone outside of her inner circle even remembered the tiny performance of a high school theater club.

This dress was more spectacular than the one she’d worn though. The train grew behind Juliet as she glided down the runway, like a burgundy trail of smoke following her and spanning the full length. At the end of the runway, she paused, running a hand through her hair like she was parting a waterfall and turned to the side, crimson eyes settling on Chisato and her friends.

Chisato, Sayo and Aya reached for Hina at the same time, barely managing to keep him from jumping over the table. Sayo slapped her hand over Hina’s mouth. Hopefully no one would hear his muffled “Kaoru!” over the music.

Chisato decided to examine her feelings on the subject at a later date.

Juliet began to spin slowly as if she were a priceless jewel on display. The cloth train wrapped around her, up and up her waist until the gown was transformed into a skirt flipped inside out and upwards. It wasn’t until she returned to the back of the stage and bowed that it became clear to the audience that she had transformed herself into a rose. Breathtaking.

The audience went wild, cheering and screaming for more. The MC stepped out from behind their podium, motioning for the crowd to quiet down as they skipped to the end of the stage and hopped off the edge and into the crowd. They flit between audience members, cozying up to people left and right, slipping between tables and finally coming to a stop right in front of Chisato’s table.

They leaned down with a ringmaster’s smile. “We need a little audience participa—” they held onto the last syllable for dear life—“tion. Any volunteers?” Their eyes settled knowingly on Chisato. At least she had an idea why now.

“You can always say no,” the MC said with honesty in their eyes.

Chisato shook her head. “No thank you.”

They pulled away and transformed back into a showperson, “No means no even in the Haute House~! Now—” They scanned the table and landed on Aya, “—It looks like we’ve got a little Miss Maruyama look-a-like here tonight.”

“I— ow.”

Chisato _persuaded_ Aya to keep quiet about how on the nose they were with a foot to the shin.

“Yes!”

“You look like you know _every_ word to _every_ song, would you come up on stage and put that to a little test for me~?”

“Of course!” Aya couldn’t scoot out of the booth fast enough. The audience applauded for her, lubricated enough by alcohol and revelry to give her a greeting worthy of any Pastel*Palettes concert. And Pastel*Palettes concerts didn’t have Hina in the audience.

“FLUFFY AND PINK WHOO!” Hina cheered, leading the crowd to join in on Aya’s call and further bewilder the intoxicated crowd.

“Alright, alright, alright,” The MC laughed, releasing Aya’s hand but staying close on stage. “We have someone to play Miss Aya Maruyama, so you know who we need. You know what we’re about to serve up to you on our very best plates?”

“CHISATO SHIRASAGI!” The crowd screamed.

And she entered dressed in her original Pastel*Palettes’ dress: the yellow frills, the green trim, those off the shoulder sleeves. Even the bass around her shoulders was the same as the one Chisato had been using just the day before.

Show business had shown Chisato many horrible wonders, but she’d never quite stared at herself like this. Realer than real. This was the hyperreality of Chisato Shirasagi, more Chisato than the actual woman had ever been. It was too close.

Chisato couldn’t think for the noise of the crowd, cheering, screaming, so sure in that moment that there had never been any Chisato other than the one on stage at that moment. That they had never wanted anything more than that image.

“Serving up some Yura Yura Ring Dong REALNESS!”

As those first electric bars cracked through the speakers, Chisato hurried from the booth and squeezed past the mass of cheering bodies mouthing the words before they were even sung. Her wig ripped off her head as she escaped, lost forever to the audience she left behind. She couldn’t worry about it. She just needed to get out. She needed to breathe.

The air outside wasn’t particularly fresh but even the middle of summer heat was more bearable than what she’d left behind. Chisato shivered despite the temperature, stepping towards the curb and trying to catch her bearings.

Her first instinct was to call Moca but she buried the thought when the inevitable conversation played out in her head. She couldn’t explain it to her partner when she couldn’t explain it to herself yet. There was nothing to be upset by. She was a celebrity, of course others could wear her persona like a halloween costume, that was part of the job, it was an expectation.

It was what Chisato was.

* * *

Sayo waited a polite five minutes to see if Chisato would return. That felt like the appropriate amount of time to confirm that Chisato was not merely excusing herself to the restroom and was, in fact, very upset. When the allotted time elapsed Sayo silently inched out of the booth. She glanced at Hina, enraptured by Aya as always, and Aya who, having finally found her calling in pretending to be herself, had convinced the crowd to let her lip sync to another one of her own songs and then forced her way through the crowd with the sort of brutishness she tired hard to avoid.

An odd nostalgia filled Sayo as she exited the bar, the sort that accompanied a painful memory dulled by time. As she walked towards Chisato, leaning against a bus stop with a cigarette in hand and her blonde hair a rare mess around her head, Sayo couldn’t help but remember when their positions were reversed.

 _The makeup ran thick into the sink like liquid skin pouring down the drain as Sayo scrubbed at her face with hands and paper towels trying not to look into the mirror. Try as she might, it was impossible to avoid the bathroom mirror_ _—the girl’s bathroom, the only bathroom in Hanasakigawa because it was a school for_ girls _she’d remind herself on the worst sort of days—and_ _the glimpses of her patchy face still somehow covered with the makeup she’d foolishly layered on that morning._ _She was such an idiot._ _How could she think she could get away with wearing makeup undetected? How could she think she could fit in like that?  
The worst part was no one made fun of her awful work. __Instead t_ _hey_ complimented _her. “You did so good.” “I wish my makeup looked like that.” Lies. So many lies told to be nice, to be their good deed for the day. Sayo knew what she looked like._ _She gripped the sink so tightly she was sure the ceramic would crack as she stared into the smudge_ _s_ _on her face._ _There was no point in pretending she wasn’t a pretender._

_The bathroom door opened. Sayo’s instincts screamed to hide away her face but her body stayed stuck in place as a fellow freshman entered. Sayo knew her: Chisato Shirasagi from_ _film and tv and fourth period._

_Sayo stared._

_Chisato stared back with an unreadable expression Sayo wasn’t used to seeing on the girl who seemed all empty smiles and pleasantries._

_Then she left._

_Sayo wanted to die on the spot. She was so horrible to look at that the sight of her scared another student so bad they_ _had to flee and—_

_The door opened again, Chisato returned with her bag in hand. She rummaged inside and pulled out a packet of wipes. She smiled with a magazine cover ready smile and offered the packet. “It’s hard to remove makeup with only water. I always keep some makeup wipes in my bag.”_

_Sayo took one of the cold wet wipes without comment, too embarrassed to speak._ _The cool moisture_ _was calming against her skin. With each stroke over her face she felt her frustration peel away with the smears of paint_ _and_ _w_ _hen she threw away the wipe, covered in tan and black splotches, she threw away a little anger with it. Still, she couldn’t bear to look Chisato in the eye, let alone thank her._

_Chisato politely returned her attention to her bag. She pulled out a little tan tube and held it out. “I was gifted this foundation but I think it’d match your complexion much_ _better_ _than mine.” When Sayo didn’t move she set it on the sink._

_Sayo_ _glanced at it._ _She wasn’t even sure she knew what foundation was or if it had been in the collection of old makeup her mother passed down. But she could tell Chisato was trying to help without offering help and that… felt so much better than all the forced compliments._

_Unfortunately, Sayo didn’t have the manners to thank Chisato. Her walls were too high to be vaulted with a single kind act. Instead she_ _muttered_ _, “Makeup is prohibited in school.”_

_“_ _Of course.” Chisato bowed her head. “I would appreciate if you’d dispose of it for me.”_

_Sayo snatched it up, holding the tiny tube in her palm like a baby bird, and watched Chisato leave, wishing she were the kind of person with the strength to make a friend._

Five years and a few lifetimes of emotional development later, Sayo was glad to have the chance to return the favor.

“Chisato,” Sayo called out softly enough to let Chisato acclimate to her presence.

Her shoulders tensed with recognition before she looked over her shoulder, smoke trailing from the cigarette in her mouth. “Sayo.” Chisato struggled to pull herself together—though to an outsider she’d look perfectly presentable. Her pleasant nothing smile appeared for a moment before she decided the energy wasn’t worth expending and her face fell back into exhaustion and the sort of lost look Sayo knew well from her own mirror.

Sayo’s heart ached fondly. She never realized how close their almost in-law relationship had become and that made her happy but it also made her friend’s pain all the more painful to witness. Sayo joined Chisato at the street corner, rejecting the pack of cigarettes with a slight wave of her hand when it was offered. “I didn’t realize you smoked.”

“Only on special occasions.” The plume of smoke trembled as it left Chisato’s mouth.

Sayo wondered if it would be appropriate to hold Chisato, if only to ease the chills that shook her on this warm summer night but before she could decide Chisato spoke again.

“Does it make you angry at all?” She motioned with a jerk of her head to the bar entrance. “Watching them make fun of us like that?”

“Us?

“Women.” She spat the word out onto the road as if longing for a car to run it down.

Sayo considered the question. Maybe once she would have but now… “Some of them are women.”

“And some of them are men …or Kaoru.” Chisato breathed in deep before letting the smoke out in a single burst of bitter laughter. “And all of them are me. One so rarely has an opportunity to see themselves as others do and realize they are so easily replicated.”

Sayo again hesitated to comfort.

Chisato had more to say. “Do you think a woman is her makeup Sayo?”

Sayo cracked a smile over bad memories turned comical in hindsight. “In my experience a woman is half the way she walks and half the length of her hair.”

Chisato smiled at that too, then the smile faded away and the cigarette fell limp in her fingers. “I don’t understand Moca. I thought I did for a while and then I thought I didn’t need to but…”

“I love my sibling with all my heart. But I do not understand Hina and I surely do not understand his gender. I thought he was making fun of me at first. I was still so self centered that I thought—” Sayo sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, banishing her self-deprecation as she opened her eyes back up. “His relationship with his gender is his. And sometimes hers. I think we can live like that.”

“It’s not the same. I’m her partner—their partner. Fuck!” Chisato threw her still smoldering cigarette to the ground and stomped until the smoke stopped. The red stain of lipstick on tip shone vibrant pavement. She crushed it again, burying it under the tip of her heel. “I can’t support them like this. I can’t talk to them like this. All I can do is hurt them.”

“That might be true.” Sayo reached for Chisato’s hand lying limply at her side and wrapped both her hands around it. “But if you don’t talk to them, it absolutely will be. I know it’s ironic advice for myself to give, but you love each other more than you misunderstand one another.”

Chisato stood there quietly with her hand in Sayo’s hands until she leaned her head forward, forehead just barely touching Sayo’s shoulder. Sayo watched people shuffle out of the bar behind them in jovial merriment, the show apparently finished. Then Chisato pulled away, tugging her hand back and blinking carefully. “I need to go.”

“I’ll tell Hina and Aya you felt sick—the burger perhaps.”

“Thank you Sayo.” Chisato nodded graciously and then, pausing for a moment to decide on a path, hurried down the street.

Sayo glanced at her shoulder and the two small wet spots on her blouse and wished Chisato all the luck in the world.

* * *

Moca’s ears were so forking cold. It was the middle of summer and here they were with ears as chilly as if they’d wandered out in a blizzard without a hat. Maybe it was time they adopted a cool skater boi look—beanies all year round.

They tossed a few empty beer cans from the coffee table to the trash bag in their hands, stepping carefully around Tomoe and Himari passed out on their shaggy living room carpet, drunk and in love with Himari’s face buried defiantly in the half a head of hair Tomoe still had. The rest was piled in the kitchen trash after Moca personally shaved it off. Until Himari threw herself at Moca to stop them as she drunkenly rambled about how great Tomoe’s hair was long. Well, maybe a skilled barber could turn Tomoe’s hair into something cool. For now she looked like she’d gotten a big hairy dog attached to one side of her head.

Ran and Tsugumi had already retired to their rooms for the night. Moca volunteered to clean up. It was just about midnight but they weren’t sleepy yet, probably because they’d spent an extra two hours dozing in Chisato’s extraordinarily comfortable bed with it’s ten million thread count sheets and a pillow that smelled just like Chisato’s hair. Moca was an easy person to please.

They popped open one of the leftover pizza boxes to check for a forgotten slice and squished the empty box into their sack. Even though they’d be finding long red hairs everywhere for the better part of a year, it was all in all one of the easier family game nights to clean up after.

Tap tap tap.

Moca’s very cold ears twitched. The sound was so slight they thought at first they’d made it up. But then it came again. Just a little louder.

Tap Tap Tap.

Nothing good ever came from a midnight house call. At least not an unplanned one. Moca checked their phone quickly to make sure they hadn’t missed a late night booty call and then glanced down the hall to see if Tsugumi was about to come running out for hers. But the apartment was still other than a loud snuffly snore from Tomoe.

Moca crept towards the door, ready to wield the trash bag as a weapon if the worst came to pass and a very polite psycho killer waited on the other side. They gripped the doorknob and pulled the door open.

Chisato stood there, hand raised to knock again. Moca opened their mouth to make a quip about some fancy new technology called a phone when they took stock of their girlfriend and their words dried up.

Her hair was a mess, strands out of place, the back bent oddly as if she’d stuffed it under a hat. Chisato’s hair was never a mess when she went out. Chisato never let herself be anything but 100% presentable in public. Moca dropped the trash bag with metallic crunch and reached out on instinct to hold their girlfriend and comfort her about whatever had upset her so.

But Chisato stepped back. Her eyes grew wide as they crawled over Moca. “Where’s your hair?”

Moca’s hand flew up to their freshly exposed ear and ran over the buzzed sides of their head until they reached the top where it still had the length and flop it had before—just a little shorter. It looked so fun when they did it to Tomoe that Moca asked Tsugumi to do it for them too. Maybe it wasn’t a perfect cut but it was perfect to Moca. “It ran away.”

With careful ticking steps, Chisato moved closer, pouring over every newly snipped hair on Moca’s head. “I don’t understand,” she murmured with a dazed look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was an instinct.

“No, no no. Not you. I—.” Chisato was horrified. Not with Moca but with herself. She swayed on spot. Moca was barely able to lunge forward in time to catch her against their chest as her legs gave up on standing upright. Chisato buried her face in Moca’s chest, body shaking with powerful unvocalized sobs. “I don’t understand,” she repeated into Moca’s cotton shirt. “I want to but I don’t.”

Moca hugged Chisato as tightly as they could. “Talk to me, please.”

“What’s the difference between you and I?”

Moca struggled to comprehend the question. There were so many things that were different about the two of them that Moca couldn’t figure out where to start.

“What makes me a woman and you not?”

Oh. That was the difference she meant. Moca looked down at the person in their arms, the toughest person they knew who suddenly seemed so small. “I don’t know.”

“Is it makeup? Hair? Clothes? Some wrinkle in my brain? Please,” She gasped as if the air she breathed stabbed her lungs. “I have to know.”

Moca climbed backwards through their conversation in their head, trying to piece together the source of Chisato’s tears so they could take it away. But it was something too deep for their fingers to reach. “Do you really hate being a woman that much?”

There was a long moment of heavy breathing from two sets of lungs. “Yes. It’s everything awful in my life: the limitations, the rules, the expectations. If I wasn’t a woman… if I wasn’t so weak…”

“Do you want me to give you permission to not be cisgender?” Moca repeated Sayo’s words, offered in such kindness.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to give you permission to be cisgender?”

“… I don’t know.”

Moca thought things through, lifting a hand to pet down Chisato’s long, brilliant hair. “I give you permission to be Chisato. Whomever she may be. I’ll always want to know her.”

“I want to change. I want to be as brave as you are. But I don’t know how. Moca, I don’t know how to change. So please…” Chisato pushed back. Her last tears hung unshed in her eyes.

She whispered, “Change me.”

* * *

The most wonderful thing about a relationship, Chisato had come to realize, was that sometimes she could just screw her eyes shut and trust that Moca would take care of her. Chisato had never been very good at trusting that others had her best intentions in mind, or believing anyone around her was possibly competent enough to handle things on their own but Moca had very patiently worn her down like water against a boulder.If her younger self could see her now… she’d probably ask how they could have possibly fallen so far. But Chisato wouldn’t see her because Chisato’s eyes were closed.

The metal folding chair wobbled underneath Chisato—just a centimeter off on one of the legs. She gripped the edges tighter, the folded underside of the seat digging into the pads of her fingers. Her body trembled and tensed but Chisato stayed seated. Besides, there was nowhere to run in Moca’s bathroom.

“Shhh, relax.” Moca’s disembodied voice cooed over her ear as their disconnected hand pressed comfortingly at the center of her shoulders. “Ol Moca’s got you.”

“I know,” Chisato said in a murmur laced with exhaustion. “I trust you.” And Moca would never take that trust for granted.

Sniiiip. Sniiip.

The sound tickled Chisato like a dozen feathers straight down her ear canal. She fought not to squirm in the chair. “Please, don’t tease me.”

“Just testing it out~ Gotta be more careful with you than Tomo-chin.” Moca swallowed. “Just one more time: you sure you want this?”

Chisato nodded. “Yes, _I_ want this.”

“My Chisato gets what she wants.”

Chisato waited in the darkness of touch and sound. The creak of her chair as Chisato slightly rocked. A light tug as Moca gathered a bundle of Chisato’s hair. A deep breath, almost making up for the ones Chisato couldn’t take. And then…

Snip.

The tickle of dozens of strands of long golden hair falling over her arms.

Tears pricked at Chisato’s eyes as if Moca had cut a nerve. It was too frightening, too impossible to imagine who she would be when she opened her eyes. Chisato almost screamed out, almost begged Moca to stop.

“I’m so proud of you.” Moca leaned forward and kissed the crown of her head.

Chisato grabbed Moca’s arm over her shoulder and tightly intertwined their fingers. “Keep going.”

Snip. Sniiip. Snip.

With every cut more of Chisato’s history fell away, more demands disappeared. In one strand were her agents, in another her career, in so so many her mother. All falling to the bathroom floor. Each cut away by Moca’s hands guided by her own choice. It felt like the first choice she’d ever made on her own but that was dating Moca, wasn’t it?

Then, with a last snip, Chisato realized she was very cool. The back of her neck froze as if she were sitting in a freezer instead of Moca’s bathroom. Her hands shook as they rose to her neck but before she could touch there was warmth there again. Hot air blew against the center of her nape just before it was chased away at once by the chills as Moca’s lips pressed against Chisato’s exposed skin.

“I’m done,” Moca whispered into her neck. “Open your eyes.”

It was a simple thing turned into a herculean task but it was done, it seemed inevitable.

Her hair looked exactly as Chisato expected really: a messy cropping of hair done by an amateur. It was uneven and unplanned and Chisato was going to get a scolding from every professional she’d ever met and—

It was gone. It was all gone except for a finger’s length around her head. Her head felt so much lighter and her hair had never been that heavy. Chisato founde herself crying again for an entirely different reason.

“It’s me.” She smiled through her tears at her reflection. “That’s me.”

Moca clung to Chisato’s neck, arms wrapped around her with their face hidden against her neck as tears fell from their eyes too. They sniffed messily.

“Moca,” Chisato giggled, wiping tears from her eyes and coaxing Moca out of hiding. “Why are _you_ crying?”

“When I see you so happy I just… I can’t help it.” Moca sniffed. “Moca really loves you. With all their heart.”

Chisato twisted her torso around so she could face Moca with her new face and kiss that stupid, sweet, magical person she loved so dearly. Unfortunately, that’s exactly when the chair gave up on living.

CuhRACK!

“Waah!”

Moca and Chisato collapsed into a pile with the twisted metal. They laid there, stunned for a moment before they found there was no other option but to laugh and when Chisato’s laughter turned to tears Moca pulled her into their arms, rocking her back and forth on the floor and into the sense of security one could only find on the floor with their partner.

“Moca, I want to love you no matter how you change.”

Moca kissed Chisato as their response, lips lingering over hers until Chisato welcomed Moca in to reaffirm their commitment to one another with the silent promise they could only show each other. Moca pushed themselves up, body stretching over Chisato as—

“MOCA! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

The bathroom door flung open. Ran stood in the doorway with harried eyesin a t-shirt and a pair of boxers with Yukina—bed mussed hair and wearing only one of Ran’s t-shirts—hovering just over her shoulder. Her worry quickly turned to annoyance.

Moca twisted around, scooping up Chisato. “We’re fine~ Hey Yukina~! When’d Ran sneak you in for a booty call?”

“W-we’re working on music,” Ran protested more out of habit than embarrassment.

Yukina smiled mysteriously, “That is not entirely untrue. By the way, Aoba, did I tell you that I am not a—”

Chisato and Moca laughed. “We’ve heard.”

* * *

Neither of them knew what time it was, and neither of them really cared. Chisato and Moca lay tangled up together on Moca’s twin bed. It was too hot and they were too sweaty and yet Chisato still felt perfectly comfortable. Even though she suspected her hand was now fused to Moca’s thigh.

She wiggled her other hand, the one that belonged to the arm Moca used as a pillow, into Moca’ remaining hair. When she stroked up the short hairs pricked her finger tips but when she stroked down Moca’s hair revealed itself as the softest thing she’d ever touched. They were relaxing to pet. Even more when they purred sleepily under her hand, blinking slowly as they gazed at Chisato with a blissful and mischievous smile.

Chisato didn’t ask it often, as she expected the answer to be nigh incomprehensible, but for once Chisato permitted herself a cliché question.“What are you thinking about?”

“What you said earlier,” Moca pushed back against her hand with bristly hair. “About the differences between us.”

“What about them?” Chisato asked, too comfortable for concern.

“I like them.” Moca smirked and marched their fingers along Chisato’s shoulder. “You’re elegant and beautiful. You always know the right thing to say.”

Chisato stretched her arm to catch Moca’s palm with her lips. “That last one is a similarity. I think we’re very similar. We’re both too clever for our own good, we both wait as long as we can possibly stand it to ask for help—”

“—we’re both always ready to help.” Moca finished for her. “But the world’s been a lot crueler to you.”

“And your brain has been much crueler to you.” Chisato smiled a little sadly for all the battles in Moca’s head but continued. “But we’re not alone.”

“No we’re not.” Moca pinched their nose and shook off the sincerity of the moment. “And we both look goood with short hair.”

“Very, very true.” Chisato gave Moca’s excellent haircut a final ruffle before fingering the chopped ends of her hair.

“Hey you know what else?” Moca rose up over her body, pinning Chisato to the bed with one hand and cupping her face with the other.

Someone else would say something romantic, something touching here. But Chisato was dating Moca Aoba and she knew what they were about to say. “Moca, are you going to say we both have banging bods?”

“Wowowowow.” They jerked their head back in playful shock and offense. “The ASSUMPTION! Maybe Moca was gonna say we love each other but WOW!”

Right on the nose. “I supposed we are truly different because that’s what I was thinking. We are truly irreconcilable.”

Moca grinned. “I can live with that.” Then they rubbed their sticky sweaty face into Chisato’s collarbone and collapsed on top of her. “Good night!”

“Moca. Moca Aoba. Moca Aoba get OFF me!”

But they were already asleep.

* * *

**One week later**

There was no such thing as a boring Pride Celebration and this year was no exception. Moca enjoyed themselves thoroughly, starting with the Roselia concert that ended with Yukina announcing to the crowd that she was, as always, not a woman but her girlfriend was and they were going to perform a duet whether Ran was prepared or not. She wasn’t but Ran was still Moca’s favorite singer and she rose to the challenge—even if their song featured metaphors so pointedly about the other one that Moca was shocked they didn’t cut themselves on them.

Then there was the fair to explore with the boys (and Lisa who wormed her way between Masuki and Rei and refused to move—neither asked her to anyway), daring each other to eat stranger and stranger food items and stop by to pester Sayo and praise Tsugumi at Hazawa Coffee’s pop up stand. The couple was too busy to linger with their friends but that only made Moca happier. They traded a smile and a wave with Sayo before their group moved on to weirder pastures.

It was almost perfect. Except Chisato was still at home going over yet another version of her contract. Moca understood, baby steps of course. They just had to be patient, just had to trust Chisato would find her way. Or that maybe, as they glimpsed Hina dragging Aya through the stalls, Moca could help lead her a little too. They wanted Chisato to get to feel the energy around them buzzing from person to person: the feeling of normalcy. Every single one of them was different—a different gender, a different sexuality, a different journey—but in that place and time for just one little bit, they were exactly the same.

Eventually the group naturally trickled towards the parade route, rejoining with the rest of Afterglow and losing Kaoru with a cryptic declaration of “I have some friends to assist~”. There were metal barricades set up between the sidewalk and the street that Moca took for a comfy headrest as their family gawked around them at all their fellow colorful people refusing to be silent. They almost started to doze, so comfortable and tired.

But then they looked up. Moca wasn’t sure what it was about the boisterous falsetto and disco beat blaring out another boombox that made them look up but they were glad they did.

“The Haute House of Hamburgers and Highballs presents The Night of a Thousand Chisato Shirasagis” the banner read held between two Chisato Shirasagi impersonators—one unmistakably Kaoru putting her expertise to good use. Moca perked up—they’d had this dream before though the many Chisatos weren’t quite that tall. A dozen Chisatos waved at the crowd in a bevy of costumes some smiled, some scowled but each tried to capture a fragment of her essence.

Moca smiled, well they’d have to work a little harder to get her down but the effort was appreciated.

Then their attention turned to the back where the smallest Chisato brought up the rear. Moca’s eyes widened alongside their grin. They’d know that face anywhere—even buried under dramatic drag makeup and a long blonde wig. “That’s Chisato.”

Moca’s friends followed their eyes and all gawked in wonder. Their staring turned into cheering and hollering as the Chisato’s marched by and finally, Tomoe turned to Moca with an eager glint in her eye. “Moca you gotta go out there!”

“Eh? Into the parade?”  
“Hell yeah!” Masuki agreed. “We’ll give you a boost.”

“Wait—Aren’t there rules about this?” Moca asked as Tomoe and Masuki crouched down locking hands together to boost Moca up.

Sayo patted Moca’s shoulder then pushed them forward. “No one will notice if you join in. Go.”

“Even Sayochi?! Rule breaker! Bad girl!” But as they protested Moca took the help and used Tomoe and Masuki as a stepping stool to climb over the railing and onto the other side.

“Have fun!” Tsugumi chirped as Moca’s family sent them off with waves and winks.

They waved back before jogging into the parade. Sayo was right, no one noticed Moca in the colorful chaos of Pride. They hopped past towering beauties on roller skates and crewcuts on bikes as they tried to catch up with the one and only Chisato Shirasagi hidden amongst a field of them.

She was just ahead of them, Moca could almost reach out and touch her but instead they shouted. “CHISATO!”

And a dozen heads turned.

Moca cleared their throat and sheepishly smiled as they gestured to their Chisato, “Sorry, just this one.”

The crimson eyed Chisato holding the banner winked.

Moca’s Chisato regarded her with the confidence of someone who expected to be found. “Good of you to join me, Moca Aoba.”

Moca kept at Chisato’s brisk pace, waving at the crowd to the left and right and hoping they were wondering which Chisato came in buzzed silver. “You sneaky sneak~ making Moca worry you’d miss the fun.”

“Well, it took a little work to set this up but, as always, Kaoru has the oddest connections.” There was a new twinkle at the corner of her eyes. “We’ll have to do something about that hair.” With a little effort she plucked the wig off her head—shaking out her short, elegant hair, reshaped by professionals into another perfect Chisato—and plopped it onto Moca’s. “It’ll have to do. Glad to have you celebrating with me.”

“Hmm?” Moca grinned from underneath the strands of blond hair, trying to shift the wig into something slightly presentable. “Celebrate what? Your pure and beautiful love for your Moca~?”

Chisato snorted, “I do that everyday, my impure and handsome Moca. No, I…” She looked up at the clear blue sky. “I made a decision. I’m not signing the contract. I’m going independent. I’m not under any illusion I’ll have great success on my own. Maybe not any but this is what I want.”

She looked more serene than Moca had seen her in a long time, maybe ever. Her smile was so perfectly hers, even though Moca knew she was scared to death by her choice they knew she’d made it herself. Moca really wanted to kiss Chisato but it was hard to move and smooch so they took her hand and raised it to the crowd like she was a prize fighter and refused to let it go.

Moca squeezed her hand. “Then it’s perfect.”

Before Chisato could say anything else, tell Moca anything more of her plans, the giant Chisato in front of them turned around with a wicked smile and some advice. “Honeys, you’re adorable but you have to work on that smile. Chisato never smiles that widely.”

And as they marched together down the street hand in hand, Chisato threw back her head and laughed brilliantly into the sun, “I suppose I still have a lot to learn about being Chisato.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like to editorialize outside of the stories but I hope if you take anything away it's this: when you question your base assumptions, whether they're about gender or sexuality or whatever, that's when magic can happen.
> 
> Special thanks to my friends for helping me keep my head on these threeish weeks of writing madness. Can't wait to inevitably make myself do it again. 
> 
> Title taken from the classic disco song: You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)


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